The Seven Plagues of Revelation
by Dragenphly
Summary: Sequel to the Seven Wonders of the World. A mysterious disease spreads across the magical world into the muggle world, and the barriers are fading. HPDM. Discontinued.
1. Prologue

Title: The Seven Plagues of Revelation

Rating: This is R – Do Not Read if you are NOT mature enough.

Pairing: Harry/Draco

WARNING: **Slash**. No like no read…honestly, if you haven't gotten it by now, I'm afraid there's little hope for you…

Summary: (slash) Sequel. Something wicked this way comes, and this time it may be too big for Harry to handle it, especially since he's trying to figure out what the mysterious markings around his head mean, how to get Hermione to open her eyes to reality, and what to do about Draco, who just won't give up…

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you may recognise.

Author's Note: Wow. This came out quicker than I anticipated. This is the sequel to 'Seven Wonders of the World', and it's going to focus on Harry's role in the things to come (i.e. Voldemort's evil mastermind plan of world domination), his relationships with various people and how they change etc. I want this to sort of be a 'coming of age' story. Also, sorry if the information about the plagues is wrong, I'm not religious, and I had a hard time sorting through pages of utter fanatic crap before I got something that resembled information. No offence. (And by the way, which idiot decided Europe was 'the seat of darkness' snorts what were they smoking?) So enjoy, and I'd love to hear from you.

REVIEW: You people inspire me. It's appreciated. But if you don't…there's not much I can do, eh?

****

Prologue:

Every morning, Harry wakes up early, much earlier than Ron does. Harry usually steps out of bed and puts on his sweat pants, before sneaking downstairs quietly. Depending on if the night before was a weekend night, he'll cover Hermione with a blanket as she continues to slumber downstairs on the couch, and pulls one or two big tomes off her.

Then he'll pad through the portrait and down the stairs, getting ready for his morning run around the lake. He's never seen anybody else do this, which is strange, considering Harry believes he's not the only person wanting to stay in shape…but he's never questioned it much.

When he comes back, he's usually craving for a hot shower to relax his aching muscles, and gets dressed afterwards, taking an early breakfast, with or without Hermione, depending on if she's awake at that time. They usually save food for Ron, who never quite manages to make it in time for breakfast.

It's a comfortable routine, and Harry has grown used, even fond of it over the years. When he's finally released after his last spell of dizziness, he's looking forward to picking it up again. And he does, the very next morning. He slips on his sweat pants, ties his hair back and walks downstairs. Hermione is sleeping on the couch, and Harry smiles at the picture his friend makes.

Draping a blanket over her, he takes a large book off her lap. '_Markings of the Occult_'. Harry frowns, but he's never one to question Hermione's reading fodder. Stepping out of the portrait, he continues downstairs, slipping out of the door, where his routine is about to be drastically disrupted as he collides with a worn and tired potion master.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Potter." Snape inclined his head, and Harry nodded in return. The man was wearing rumpled robes, ripped in some places, and Harry could see bruises forming after a hard night's torture. He averted his eyes, knowing that though their relationship had improved marginally, there were still some things that one simply did not talk about.

Snape pushed past him, but turned before he went inside.

"Times are changing, Potter." Then he left.

Harry frowned and rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on as a result from the vision he missed the night before. Probably plenty of horrific ideas to feed his nightmares for a couple of weeks…he was glad he'd slipped and been unconscious.

As he ran, his mind repeated Professor Snape's ominous warning back to him, and Harry had no clue what it meant. He decided to head back, seeing as his head was too filled to be cleared anytime soon, but made his second collision of the day, this time with something large and feathery.

"Argh!" Harry spluttered as he almost swallowed a mouthful of owl. A reproachful hoot made him look up, and he gazed into wise, large eyes.

"Hedwig…little eager this morning?" he smiled at his pet, noticing the newspaper she carried in her beak. It was last night's Evening Hex, a newspaper that was getting quite an upsurge in popularity, due to the continued failings of the Daily Prophet. Hedwig had probably been unable to deliver it last night.

Sitting down on the front steps, Harry folded open the paper to be confronted with a screaming headline:

'**MUGGLE WORLD SEIZED BY OUTBREAK OF DISEASE'**

–London, _muggles everywhere have been caught in a rising panic, as a mysterious illness claws about itself, taking casualties faster than a niffler can find money._

Victims have trouble breathing, and appear to be growing strange markings on their skin, like big black spots. Muggles in all parts of the world have reported experiencing these first symptoms, and people are watching out for any other signs that could notify victims.

The muggle ministry has enlisted the help of several wizarding officials to find the cause of this disease, as wizards do not, as of yet, seem affected by the mysterious ailment.

Due to recent developments, a connection between the cases and the resurrection of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot be discarded, and some of the leading Aurors of today, such as Shacklebolt, and the notorious Mad-Eye Moody have been put on the case.

Any information regarding this illness, however insignificant it may seem, is very much appreciated, and can be delivered in person, or sent via owl, to the Ministry of Magic.

The Evening Hex sincerely crosses its fingers that this mysterious disease does not wish wizards as it's main course.

Harry blinked. Then he folded his paper and blinked again. Some gut feeling was telling him that this was what Professor Snape had been hinting at, but if Snape knew something, why on earth was he telling Harry?

Confused, he walked upstairs and pushed through the portrait. Hermione was just getting up; smiling at the blanket that covered her. As she saw Harry, she tensed up slightly, and Harry tried not to notice as he felt his heart constrict.

"Morning" he whispered softly, not looking at her.

"Good morning" she returned, a little hesitantly. Harry walked past her and dropped his paper.

"I'm not too sure about that. Read this and tell me what you think." He moved up the stairs to take a shower, but Hermione's voice called him back.

"Har?"

He looked at her expectantly.

"It's going to take time. It scared me. I need…space."

He gave her a sardonic look.

"We can't afford time, Hermione. I've been scared the last sixteen years of my life. The good guys don't get breaks. Not even the murderers among them."

And he left, not looking at her, not knowing how she would take the final comments. Not really caring, as the one person he really wanted to speak to was a Slytherin. And surprisingly, it wasn't even Draco.

AN:

THANKS TO -

CuriousDreamWeaver, Eadon, HonEySky, Benji's VIP, Ovens = friends, eminem4eva, Flammy, Usually Immaculate Aristocrat

For reviewing the Seven Wonders epilogue. You all rock. Multiple times over.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Seven Plagues of Revelation

**Rating**: This is R – Do Not Read if you are NOT mature enough.

**Pairing**: Harry/Draco

WARNING: **Slash**. No like no read…honestly, if you haven't gotten it by now, I'm afraid there's little hope for you…

**Summary**: (slash) Sequel. Something wicked this way comes, and this time it may be too big for Harry to handle it, especially since he's trying to figure out what the mysterious markings around his head mean, how to get Hermione to open her eyes to reality, and what to do about Draco, who just won't give up…

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you may recognise.

**Author's Note**: This is the sequel to 'Seven Wonders of the World', and it's going to focus on Harry's role in the things to come (i.e. Voldemort's evil mastermind plan of world domination), his relationships with various people and how they change etc. So enjoy, and I'd love to hear from you.

REVIEW: You people inspire me. It's appreciated. But if you don't…there's not much I can do, eh?

xxxxxxxxxx

**Chapter One:**

Ron was still asleep when Harry stepped out of the shower. Smiling at his lanky friend, Harry towelled his hair dry. He lowered his towel as his hand came up, not quite touching the markings on his head, but tracing the places, and his eyes looked at the mirror image.

"You look so much like Jesus it's not even funny. You can be their Messiah, Harry", he snarled at his reflection, wondering if he could somehow scratch them off.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, Harry", Ron told him as he propped his head up with his hand. Harry merely scowled at him and continued looking at himself in the mirror. Ron gave his friend a scrutinising look.

"I do hope that ponce Malfoy hasn't made you so vain that you're going to stand and gawk at yourself in the mirror each morning," he jested good-naturedly, but Harry turned around and growled.

"Not funny Ron. Look at what I have on my head….just LOOK at it! It's another thing that sets me apart, that makes me different…and nobody has even bothered to take me aside and tell me what the FUCK it means…"

Frustrated, he pulled at his hair, watching Ron's face lose it's cheerful smile. The red head stood up and approached the small boy like a predator, clasping him by the upper-arms and giving him a good shake.

"Now you listen closely, Harry Potter. You're my best mate, and I love you, but I will NOT take this self-pitying crap from you. You're better than that, I know you are. I understand things may be hard at times. I know I'm not you, and I don't have your burden to carry, but Har, I'm your friend, and I SEE what you go through. It sticks me every day that I wasn't there with Hermione when you needed me the most. It eats away at me, that it was MALFOY who you guys had to depend on. But I'm here now, and I'm going to make it all better…I promise. You're my brother…family doesn't give up on each other."

Ron saw Harry's face go slack and cursed himself for not thinking about the Dursleys before he made an offhand comment like that one.

"MY family doesn't give up on each other", he corrected, pulling the smaller boy in a hug.

Harry sagged against his best friend, tears slowly spilling from his eyes. Everything had been so difficult and trying lately, and Harry hadn't known how to take a breather, had only been able to continue and fight and argue. It was wearing him out.

"Her…Hermione HATES me", he sniffled into the crook of Ron's elbow. Ron gently patted his head and pushed him back a bit so he could look into his eyes.

"She doesn't hate you, Harry. She's just dealing with it her own way…the war suddenly came a lot closer to her than before…it became real. Someone died, Harry, whether they were good or bad doesn't change the fact that someone died. That has an impact on people. Everybody deals with it separately…you, you blame yourself, and retreat and regroup. Hermione, Hermione takes distance to analyse and assess things. We're all different…that's why we work so well together."

Harry Potter stared at the boy in surprise.

"Merlin, how did you get so smart?"

Ron smiled softly and gave Harry a gentle push towards the showers, but Harry turned back.

"No, no…really…You…you grew up. And I missed it. Somehow, I missed it." He looked distraught and Ron gave him another push.

"Someone had to, whilst you and Mione were off playing heroes. Someone has to stay home and guard the fort. And who else then the dashing, charming, well-endowed, intelligent…"

He broke off with a laugh as Harry fled into the shower, covering his ears. Sauntering down to the common room, he saw his other best friend in front of the fire place, staring at the flames.

"Hey", he said, dropping into the seat next to her.

"Hey." Her voice was soft, even, steady. She seemed, calmer, somehow…better than the last couple of weeks.

"He misses you terribly, Hermione. He really doesn't need this extra weight on him right now…it's not fair to make him carry your burden as well as his. He thinks you hate him."

Wide brown eyes stared at him, and concern flooded them.

"But…but I don't hate him. I told him it would take time, but I don't hate him. Hate Harry? Never, never!" Her voice rose and it became more distressed. Ron wrapped a long arm around her and pulled her close.

"I didn't say you did. I said, he thinks that, and it's adding to his guilt. He saved your life, Hermione, he's saved our lives more than once. We owe him our support. Tell me, what did you think war was? All that we've done, all our DA meetings, all the times we fought against Dementors, or figured out clues or helped Harry practise spells and hexes…what did you think it was for?"

Hermione sat, white-faced, tight-lipped. Then her head fell forward onto her chest.

"But it hurts, Ron. It hurts to think one day _I_ might have to kill somebody…"

"So you would leave all the dirty work up to Harry, watching as it destroys him piece by piece, and then berate him for doing what he has to do to save himself, even though it breaks him apart? Would you be so cruel, Hermione?"

Hermione stared at Ron with new-found respect. Never had she heard Ron argue his case so calmly. Never had she thought Ron might be mature enough to see all the sides of an argument, and present it logically to her, nay, even out do her. She felt very humbled, and lowered her head again.

"You're right. Of course you're right…but Ron…I'm…I'm scared."

Ron made a soothing noise in the back of his throat, and patted her head, like he had done to Harry before.

"I know. So am I. So is Harry. But as long as we stick together, things will be all right. We'll be all right. We have to be."

His voice sounded strained, but it still held the soothing quality, and Hermione closed her eyes as the calm washed over her.

This was how Harry found them, Hermione curled up on the chair, with Ron's arm rhythmically stroking her bushy hair. He gave a bittersweet smile, and attempted to tiptoe past them, when a hand shot out and grabbed his shirt.

"Where are you going?" Ron enquired dangerously.

"Breakfast?", squeaked Harry, smiling a little. Ron grinned back and pulled him closer, making him topple onto the other two. Hermione lifted her head and when she saw Harry, she enveloped him in a hug.

"I'm sorry, Har"

Harry smiled softly, face pressed into his friend's bushy hair.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

They looked at each other for a moment before Ron, slightly peeved, broke the moment by yelling BREAKFAST! Hermione and Harry rolled their eyes at each other but joined their comrade for on his quest for food.

xxxxxxxxxx

In an almost automatic gesture, Harry's eyes flashed towards the Slytherin table when he entered the Great Hall. Scanning the rows, he sighed disappointedly when he didn't spot the familiar blonde hair.

After having spent so much time with Draco, not being around him everyday, every minute was…strange. It gave Harry a feeling of homesickness he wasn't used to, and he shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts.

After all, Draco was far better off without him, and it annoyed Harry to no end that he was so weak that he couldn't put thoughts of the Slytherin away. They were…they were bad for each other. Since the day they met, they had hurt each other, tried to find ways to get the other into trouble. As they grew up, the taunts got more serious, aimed to really hurt someone's soul.

The rape was the last thing…Harry tried not to think about the fact that he had enjoyed being dominated, but rather focused on the fact that Draco took something from him before he was ready to give it. That had breached any trust the two may have built up. However, Draco had shown he was sorry…and Harry…Harry was inexplicably drawn to Draco.

But it didn't matter. They were bad for each other, especially now that Harry was a murderer, and had killed Draco's aunt. That was something unforgivable, surely? A snide voice popped into his head.

_Why is it that he almost rapes you and you can forgive him, but you don't think you deserve his forgiveness for killing someone he wasn't too close with in the first place? You like to make yourself the bad guy, don't you Potter? Grow up. Bad things sometimes happen to good people…maybe more to you than others. Deal with it. Be strong. _

Harry growled at his internal Snape and sat down with his back towards the snakes, ignoring the look Hermione sent his way. He was happy they were talking again, but that didn't mean she could go back to bossing him around. No…maybe it would be best if he created a little distance between himself and his friends. It wasn't about what he wanted…it was about what he had to do.

xxxxxxxxxx

After a long day of doing nothing, Harry excused himself, and went to the library. He nodded at Madam Pince and moved towards a secluded corner, taking out his homework assignments. There were some Charms questions, a Arithmancy logbook and a particular trying Potions essay. At the start of the year, Harry had dropped Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, choosing instead Arithmancy (because Hermione said it was useful) and Ancient Runes…because his intuition told him it was useful.

Even though he had had a valid reason to miss the last term, it meant he had a lot of catching up to do. Fortunately for him, the Christmas holidays were coming up, giving him plenty of free days for reading.

Pulling the Charms questions towards him, he opened his book and cleared his mind of everything but completing the questions.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice a shadow falling across the table. Only when the other person sat down did he look up.

"Draco." The name rolled easily from his lips, even though he felt he had tainted it by allowing it to pass them.

The blonde stared at him intensely for a few minutes, drumming his fingers on the table. Instead of speaking, he glanced around at the few students, mostly Ravenclaws, who were littered around the surrounding tables.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to say something, Draco turned back to him with wide eyes.

"See, what I don't understand, Harry, is that when I tell you I'm willing to put my life on the line for you, you nod and then…nothing. You've been out of the hospital wing, you've had your talk with Dumbledore…but you have yet to seek me out, and I…I…"

Draco looked at him, a little angry, mostly helpless.

"I don't know you want from me, Draco, I -"

"- bullshit! You know exactly what I want…I've never danced around the subject like you seem to be so fond of doing. I want you. Only you. And I know you want me. I want to be with you when you face the Dark Lord. I want to be with you when you cry, when you laugh…I want to learn about your past and create a future with you - Merlin, Harry…can't you see?"

Draco's face was a mask of pain, and Harry recoiled from the unexpected show of emotions.

"How can you ask me that? How…you and I…is like adding sulphur to…to…well, whatever makes it explode, but we're just…too far apart. Draco, ever since we met, we've been in constant competition -"

" - but not anymore! Why are you so stubborn?"

"Because you're going to get hurt!"

"Well maybe I CHOOSE to get hurt!"

The boys were glaring at each other now and Madam Pince threw a look in their direction. Draco ran a hand through his hair, sitting down again.

"Harry, I…I care about you, immensely…more than I ever thought I could about someone…and I know all about your fears and hopes, and still I choose to be near you…that's my conscious decision - you don't have the right to take that away from me!"

Harry gave him a caustic look.

"What, you want a relationship? With flowers, and confessions of love?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"I want you, Harry, and I don't want to share you, and whether that involves flowers and sweet words, well, that remains to be seen."

Harry put his head in his hands.

"I…"

Draco looked at him with anticipation, gently pulling one of Harry's hands from his head, and cradling it in his own. With his thumb, he rubbed soothing circles on Harry's palm, then raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to each of the fingers. Harry looked at him, biting his lip.

"I…can't," he said, pulling back his hand. "I can't allow you to make that kind of sacrifice for me."

"What if I think you're worth the sacrifice?", Draco said after a long silence, his face stony.

"I'm sorry, but I'm taking the decision out of your hands.", Harry shrugged, and lowered his head down to his books. He heard Draco get up, was sure he would leave, but then a hand roughly pulled up his face and he was moved into a bruising kiss.

Draco thrust his tongue into Harry's mouth and claimed every inch of it, and Harry could only hang on. The taller boy pulled him up by his shoulders and backed him into the wall, just out of sight of Madam Pince.

"Don't tell me you don't feel anything! Don't tell me this doesn't get you hot…", Draco ran his hands all over Harry's body before attacking his neck with fervour.

Harry struggled a bit against him but finally gave into the sensation. It had been, oh, forever and he was so lonely…but when Draco pulled his body close and moaned slightly, Harry lifted his head out of the fog.

Pushing Malfoy off, he angrily strode around him.

"That's exactly why it can't happen…I don't trust you to take no for an answer.", he spat, before turning his back on Draco, who looked like he'd been slapped. Regaining his balance, he came forward, ignoring Harry's flinch, and pressed the lightest of kisses to his head.

"You can't deny it Harry…you can't." He walked out, back straight, eyes not betraying anything when Harry called out after him,

"I'm not…some things just aren't worth the risk."

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry's head dropped onto the table with a bang. Wincing slightly, he rubbed his forehead, eyes glazing over as they glanced at the text in front of him. How long had he been in here? It must have been hours. Hours since Draco left.

Merlin, what the hell was wrong with him? Why was he so spiteful…he should be grovelling at Draco's feet for permission to touch him. But when Draco was so willingly offering himself to him…well, what could he do except fling insults at the boy to keep him far away from the disaster that was Harry.

He wondered briefly how Ron and Hermione had fared in his absence…perhaps Ron had finally, with his new found maturity, worked up to asking her out. It would be…fitting, if they dated, Harry sneered at himself. Then he blanched…when the hell did he sneer at that? What the hell was wrong with him!

Sighing in frustration, he turned the page, determined to finish all of his homework assignments and make Hermione proud. Or outdo her. He grabbed another book and glanced at the title, frowning.

How odd.

'_Religious Myths and the Wizarding Way to Interpret Them'_

Harry almost snorted at the length of the title. How the hell had he managed to get a hold of this? He opened the book in curiosity, skimming pages until he came to something titled 'Destruction of Man'. He wrinkled his nose. That didn't sound very…enticing.

Reading on, Harry was fascinated to find out about how some muggles thought that the second coming of the saviour would be preceded by a whole litany of horrible things happening to the human race, in order to wipe out those that weren't considered worthy of a place in Heaven. Wizards maintained that should these things happen, they were sure to proclaim the coming of something evil.

A return of Voldemort, perhaps? Harry scowled at the book, flicking to the front to see the publish date. 1990. Well. That was rather…recent. And probably a bunch of rubbish. Rubbing his forehead absently, he put the book away in favour of completing his homework.

The ideas however, remained lodged in the back of his mind, and he resolved to ask Hermione, who would no doubt know what was real and what was false about the history.

He sighed as a shadow fell across his desk for the second time that evening.

"Draco, look…"

"No Mr. Potter", a steely voice came, "you look."

Harry raised his eyes to meet Professor Snape's glare.

"Follow me."

About to make a biting comment that would undoubtedly deduct house points, Harry managed to clench his fist instead and follow the Potion's master to the dungeons. His walk was brisk, his cloak flaring, and it was all Harry could do to keep up. Someday he was going to have to take a growth potion or something, because he was sick and tired of always having to run at someone else's pace.

Snape threw open the door to his classroom, and Harry almost groaned at having to see his most hated working space a day earlier than planned.

"Sit", Snape barked as he indicated the desk opposite his own. Harry perched on the side of it, eyes flitting towards the door as Snape leaned against the polished black wood. He scrutinised Harry whilst drumming his fingers on the table.

"Professor Dumbledore has approached me to restart your Occulmency lessons. I was, of course, most hesitant, but I have begun to see the importance in keeping your mind shielded from the Dark Lord at all costs. However, some ground rules will have to be laid, namely if I catch you poking in ANY of my personal items again I will not be held responsible for the outcome and Professor Dumbledore knows this."

Harry simply gave a weary nod. All his life people had been making his decisions for him. Why would now be any different? He knew he needed the lessons and no matter how much he loathed Snape, he knew Dumbledore was much to busy to indulge in teaching him.

Besides, he wanted to learn. If he could stop making the same mistake that had killed Sirius, then he could possibly maybe someday learn to forgive himself, even though Sirius was now avenged. It didn't make the hurt go away.

Snape's eyebrows drew together at his silent agreement, and then his face…didn't exactly soften, but definitely became less Snape-like.

"The first time I killed somebody, Potter, I couldn't eat for days. I threw up any food I put in my mouth, and sleep didn't come to me for a long time, simply because every time I closed my eyes I was haunted by the images. It took something away from me, something I only regained years later when Dumbledore bestowed his forgiveness upon me. However, remember this Potter, you did what you had to do…Now get out of my classroom."

If Snape had hoped for his words to make any sort of impact on Harry, he was sorely mistaken. It only made Harry roll his eyes and wonder how Snape was going to use that momentary lapse in hostility against him later.

He walked out of the classroom and continued down the hall aimlessly. It was dinner time, but he didn't feel like going down to the Great Hall right now. He wasn't hungry, so a trip to the kitchens didn't seem necessary. However, as he walked, he found that he was heading towards the statue of the one-eyed witch, and shrugging, he took out his wand, whispering the password and watching as she slid back.

A trip to Hogsmeade it was then. In some corner of his mind, Harry knew what he was doing wasn't entirely responsible, especially because he hadn't told anybody where he was going, and he was going out without his invisibility cloak. Anyone could spot him. There were probably ten school rules he was breaking at the moment as well.

However, every step away from Hogwarts made his heart feel lighter. It seemed as if some invisible weight fell off him and he grinned at himself. Alone. For the first time in ages, properly alone. Maybe he should become religious after all.

xxxxxxxxxx

Hogsmeade wasn't very busy in the evenings. Naturally, now that word about Voldemort was out, people made more effort to be inside their houses when darkness fell, but Harry had always had an affinity with the dark. Ever since being forced to live in a cupboard, he had made peace with the night and all the things that came with it, and Harry believed that in the end he was stronger for it. Hopefully.

He kept his cloak about himself tightly, putting up the hood to avoid people from staring directly in his face. The Three Broomsticks was out, there was entirely too much chance of recognition there. The Hog's Head was less than pleasant as well, so he wandered up the road, in the opposite direction from the Shrieking Shack.

He'd never really visited this part of Hogsmeade, there didn't really seem to be a need to, but now he looked with interest at the small stores, mostly selling specialised books or clothes.

However, towards the end of the road, veering off to the left was a little pub, cheerfully lit, called 'The Weary Traveller'. It looked as appealing as any, and Harry stepped inside, relieved to notice that the customers were few, and apparently, minding their own business.

Feeling inside his pocket, he came to the conclusion that he had just enough sickles for a hot chocolate, something that pleased him greatly, and as he huddled in a corner of the tavern he sighed in contentment. It was nice to have this time to himself.

It was almost as if he had cursed himself, for right at that moment, a cloaked stranger walked up to him, indicating the empty chair.

"Is this taken?", a melodious voice asked and Harry sighed, shaking his head. If people wanted conversation, they probably wouldn't take no for an answer anyway.

"I had not expected to see you here, Harry Potter."

Harry didn't start at the fact this person seemed to know him, and a cynical voice that sounded suspiciously like Draco wondered if perhaps he was getting used to the fame…maybe even enjoying it. He scowled, but managed a semi-polite shrug that could have gone for a nod, if one squinted.

"I'm having some alone time", he responded, eyes fixed on his steaming mug.

"It is dangerous to have alone time in these days. You especially.", the voice seemed to smile and Harry scowled.

"I know.", he stirred his chocolate furiously, hoping the person would get the hint and bugger off.

"Indeed. I have a proposition to make, Harry Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying. I'm not interested."

The voice laughed.

"Oh, but on the contrary, I think you will be very interested in this."

Harry looked up, annoyed.

"Is that so?" It was too dark to see who exactly was underneath the hood, but Harry was fairly certain it was a man, elderly, by the looks of it.

The man nodded.

"It has to deal with knowledge, and I know many youngsters your age desire knowledge…especially the knowledge I can offer."

Despite himself, Harry was starting to become a little more curious, and berated himself for leaning forward, a sure sign of his interest.

"What knowledge would that be?" His left hand holding the mug, his right casually on his hip but in actuality ready to grip his wand at any moment.

"Knowledge how to wield that gift you carry in your head."

Harry's eyes narrowed further.

"Who are you and what do you know of what I carry in my head?"

The man laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that clinched his gender.

"To the trained eye, Harry, it is very easy to spot. Your innate magic shields it from those who are not looking, but if one knows what to spot…well…it isn't hard."

Harry nodded slowly. Fine. Whatever. This guy was almost as frustrating as Dumbledore. It probably was Dumbledore in disguise, checking up on him.

"Did Dumbledore send you?", he asked suspiciously. The man laughed again, softer this time.

"Oh no, the old wizard and I work in very different ways. I'm am one of the last of a dying race…I believe you have met some of them before…in…another time."

The veiled reference to his recent trip caused Harry to look up and peer at the man intensely.

"Who are you? I think I'd like to have a name before we talk any further."

The man nodded in what seemed to be approval.

"Good, good. You are already learning. Being cautious is good Harry, it will aid you well in the days to come."

The man lowered his hood, he had silvery grey hair that was tied at the back of his neck with a black ribbon, an obvious sign of aristocracy, like something Lucius Malfoy would wear. His eyes were green, but they had a metallic hue, rather than Harry's emerald sheen. His eyebrows, the same silvery grey as his hair, were knotted together in great bushes over his eyes, and he had a neatly trimmed moustache.

He was old, definitely, but he didn't…feel old, and although there was a sense of danger surrounding him, Harry felt an almost immediate pull when those eyes rested on him.

"My name, Harry, is Lord Solomon Marcus Flintmaker. I am a sorcerer. Am I correct when I say you have met my kind before?"

Harry nodded, draining his mug and folding his arms.

"And what can I do for you?", he asked, honestly curious now.

"No no, my dear boy…it is not what you can do for me, it is what is my duty to do for you."

Harry looked lost.

"Excuse me?"

"I am not the first sorcerer that has shown interest in you, am I right?"

Harry nodded. Lord Flintmaker put his hand together and rested his head on top of them. Harry noticed that no matter what action he made, he always did so with a dignified air about him, a kind of calm superiority.

"And I will not be the last. Your innate magic, as you must have been told countless times, is particularly strong, possibly the strongest in this century. Since we are a dying race, it is off course, necessary for us to stay on the look out for potential new sorcerers and…bring them into the fold, as it were."

Understanding started to dawn on Harry.

"Queen Artemisia…said…roughly the same thing. She said I was too ruled by my emotions, and I could cause great damage if I didn't control it. That I wasn't working up to my full potential."

Lord Flintmaker had been nodding the entire time.

"Yes, that is correct Harry."

The man leaned forward.

"I can teach you, if you should so desire."

Harry frowned.

"I thought Queen Artemisia was going to teach me? That's what she implied, anyway."

The old man nodded thoughtfully. Then he quickly drew out something and lay it on the table, although Harry was sure that they were the only two people who could see it. It was a curved blade, not a dagger nor a sword, but definitely potent. The blade had an inscription that Harry could not read, but he recognised the engravings on the hilt immediately.

The hilt was made of green leather that seemed to have a pattern of leaves and thorns across it. Embossed at the top were three silver stars, stars that were all to familiar to Harry. He looked at the sorcerer instead of picking it up, although every fibre in his body was aching to touch it.

"She thought, since I have been the keeper of the Blade of the Rose for so long, I would be a better candidate."

Harry was daunted by the fact that these majestic people could communicate across the ages, but finally gave into his urge and grasped the knife. It fit his hand perfectly, and he almost felt it hum with anticipation…not unlike the feeling he had gotten when he first pulled Godric Gryffindor's sword out of the hat.

This however, didn't feel new…it felt as if it was something that was being returned to him, after years and years of safekeeping. Lord Flintmaker looked at him and Harry nodded.

"Thank you."

The sorcerer inclined his head.

"I am only returning what is yours by right."

Harry stared up at him.

"I have a feeling we're going to be having an awful lot of talks soon."

The man smiled, and gave him a conspiring wink. Harry smiled. He was going to go with his hunches more often if they lead to interesting meetings like these.

xxxxxxxxxx


	3. Chapter 2

**The Seven Plagues of Revelation**

**Disclaimer**: See Prologue

xxxxxxxxxx

**Chapter Two**

"HARRY POTTER"

Harry mentally winced at the headache already beginning to form behind his eyes. Hermione Granger was marching straight at him with a furious Ron in tow, and Harry almost let out a yelp.

Braver men than Harry would have quivered in their shoes, and really, when faced with an irate Hermione Granger, Harry did the only sensible thing he could. He ran.

Panting, he reached the Owlery, confident that he had lost his friends and only feeling semi-guilty for it. He wandered through the rows and rows of birds, until he finally reached his owl.

"Hello beautiful", he whispered to her as she flew onto is outstretched arm, unconsciously echoing Draco's words. He petted her lightly and slid down with his back to the wall, wishing he could conjure up some parchment with ink so he could owl Remus, now that he was here.

The weight of the Blade of the Rose rested comfortable against his thigh, too comfortably it seemed, as if he had been missing it all his life. He found it very curious that someone other than Dumbledore seemed to know so much about him, but in his talk last week, his headmaster had been less than forthcoming about the artefact, so Harry wasn't at all concerned about trying to find his information somewhere else.

What was it Lord Flintmaker had said? Use all your resources? Hedwig suddenly took off, and Harry frowned before remembering it would be time for the Evening Hex. His stomach dropped as he remembered the news from last night that he had received that morning. A mysterious disease that felled muggles right and left. It reeked of Voldemort, and coupled with Snape's warning, Harry wasn't looking forward to reading the pages of the newspaper that night.

He leaned his head back, his mind strolling down the various things he could be going to learn next time he met with the sorcerer. The man commanded respect simply through the way he held himself, and Harry looked forward to learning that, and more. As a parting advice, Lord Flintmaker had instructed Harry to gain what knowledge he could from the things that surrounded him, and to stay on top with his schoolwork.

Startled, Harry realised that he had barely thought about Bellatrix at all since that evening. There was an unpleasant churning in his stomach and he berated himself for forgetting the fact that he had murdered a person so casually. He bit his lip and tried to wallow in self-pity, but his mind was much too excited by the prospect of tutelage under someone like Lord Solomon Marcus Flintmaker. Things were happening, he told himself, and just like before, he would simply have to hang on for the ride.

A noise at the door of the Owlery made him start, and he pressed his body into the shadows, straining his ears to hear who had intruded upon his solitude.

"Potter?"

Malfoy. Great. Harry really wasn't in the mood for another confrontation, but at least Draco wouldn't try and mother him, or ask annoying questions. Well…he may ask annoying questions, but ones that Harry had the answer to.

"Yes I'm in here." Harry watched as the blonde came over to him and stood uncomfortably against the wall.

"I've been enlisted. To help with the Grand Harry Potter Search." Harry snorted and Draco cracked a smile.

"Your friends are worried."

Harry sighed.

"They're always worried…I reckon it's in their job description or something."

Draco smiled again, and lowered himself to sit, although he still looked out of place. Harry gave him a curious look.

"How come you came in here? I can't recall ever seeing you in the Owlery before."

Draco shrugged.

"I don't come here often, but when Weasley suggested this place, Granger nixed it immediately, which made me all the more determined to go up here. I thought you'd be trying to avoid her the most, and it's likely they won't be up here for a while, if Granger thinks all of Weasley's suggestions are mote."

Harry's eyebrows tightened.

"Yes, Hermione does like to believe she's right most of the time. I think she underestimates Ron simply because his academic efforts aren't as zealous as her own."

Draco nodded and they sat in companionable silence. Of course, Harry thought sourly, Draco insisted on breaking it when it became too oppressive.

"Harry…" but Harry held up a hand.

"Draco, could you please not say anything for a bit? It was really nice, just sharing some quiet time. Please don't ruin it by bringing up things that we both know are going to escalate in an argument."

Draco looked affronted, but sighed and let his shoulders slump forward. Harry gave a triumphant smile before closing his eyes and resting his head against the stone. He wasn't sure how long they remained like that, but the next thing he felt was Hedwig dropping the Evening Hex on his lap.

One eye opened and looked at the newspaper in distaste. He unfurled it and sighed.

"This should be interesting."

Draco looked on curiously.

"Why the Evening Hex? I would've thought you'd read something more sophisticated, Potter…like the Quibbler."

Harry felt a stab of anger before he realised Draco's tone was amused, and he gave him a short smile.

"Can't be too careful who you trust these days." He'd meant it as an innocent comment, but frowned when a shadow crossed Draco's face. That was one of the reasons why it was so difficult to make things…whatever 'things' were…work with Draco, because all comments exchanged between them seemed to have taken on a double meaning after the events of the past few weeks.

"What does it say?" Draco asked, hurriedly changing the subject. Harry scanned the newspaper, slowly turning the pages but increasing his speed until he reached the end in a rush. He grimaced and Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Problems?"

Harry nodded.

"Yes, I don't understand. Yesterday, or well, this morning, I read something about a mysterious disease that was bringing down muggles quickly, it was contagious and nobody had any idea where it came from. It was front page news. You'd think they'd mention some developments in this evening's edition…but nothing. It's very odd."

"Maybe there wasn't any news." Draco offered but Harry shook his head.

"They'd still make a reference to it somewhere, about statements issued by the muggle government, or whatnot. This complete silence is…it doesn't sit well."

Draco looked at Harry expectantly.

"Well what are you going to do? The Daily Prophet doesn't report news, and the Quibbler…doesn't report normal news…and apparently, the Evening Hex doesn't have ANY news…that makes it rather hard to come by any facts."

"It has Voldemort written all over it. We just need to figure out how…"

Draco stared.

"We?"

Harry gave him a deer-in-the-headlights look.

"I meant that in a general sense, like…we, the wizarding population." There was no way he'd admit to Draco that he was so used to them making decisions together he'd forgotten they were back at school…that things were different now.

Draco shoved Harry slightly.

"Potter, you idiot, I told you before I'd stick by you…I'm not about to go back on my word now, am I?"

Harry looked troubled.

"I don't want you on my side if you're doing it for the wrong reasons."

Draco glared.

"So wanting to be with you for you is a wrong reason?"

"It is when you're not one hundred percent behind what I stand for."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Potter, YOU don't even know what you stand for. Currently, what you stand for is whatever Dumbledore orders you to stand for. You're a good little puppet, face it."

Harry gave Draco a death-glare, but knew within him that the Slytherin spoke the truth. He turned and looked at the blonde earnestly.

"Draco…I'm not going to lie to you…I am attracted to you, you know that. But I cannot, and will not enter into anything at this stage…I'm just not ready. There are so many things that don't make sense in my mind, and I've got to sort me out, before I can even begin thinking about you, or us."

Draco stared at him in horror and moved to get up, but Harry quickly pulled his sleeve.

"Sit down you git, I'm not done yet."

Draco glared, but sat back down, and Harry closed his eyes again.

"However, I meant that 'we'. I've gotten so used to working with you and creating this almost seamless decision taking process that…well…I'd like having you on our side. It would give me peace of mind…and you could gain a lot of knowledge you are searching for.", he added shrewdly, seeing the flare of interest in Draco's eyes.

After a moment of silence, Draco nodded.

"Ok Potter. We'll try it your way. Even though I'm not going to stop…caring about you. Malfoys don't work like that. But you'll figure that out…someday. And I'm not on anyone's side but yours, Potter…should it ever vary from the mainstream."

Harry grinned and held out his hand, and this time there was no hesitation, no flashbacks or déjà vu's…just a simple handshake sealing a promise…and both boys felt better for it.

"So what's your first line of action?" Draco asked, taking the Evening Hex and leafing through it.

"OUR first line of action", Harry corrected, "although there's little you can do help, actually."

Draco scowled.

"What are you going to do?"

Harry put his head in his hands.

"I'm going to do something I thought I'd never even think about in the depths of my mind." he mumbled.

Draco looked worried, but his look turned to confusion when Harry whispered,

"I'm going to write my cousin."

His statement was punctuated by the door flying open, causing the owls to squawk indignantly.

"Harry James Potter," came a deadly voice, "I know you're in here, we've looked everywhere else and I heard voices so you'd better show yourself right now, or believe me, there will be hell to pay."

"Hello Hermione", Harry sighed as he rubbed his temples. Ron gave a triumphant shout.

"HA - I TOLD you he was in here! You should've listened to me, Ms. Prefect Granger, and then we wouldn't be out of breath chasing shadows across the entire castle."

"Shut up Ron", Hermione sniped, and stalked over to where Harry and Draco were sitting. Her eyes narrowed when they landed on Draco.

"AND YOU! You were supposed to help find him! And here you are; chatting away like nothing's wrong!"

"Well, I've found him, haven't I?" Draco grinned whilst Harry lifted his head to glare at Hermione.

"Nothing IS wrong." Three pairs of eyes looked at him. "I just came up to get my copy of the Evening Hex. Last time I checked getting my mail on my own was not potentially hazardous, right?"

Hermione had the grace to look slightly ashamed, but then fire entered her eyes again.

"You weren't at dinner!"

Even Ron rolled his eyes at that and Harry went back to massaging his temples.

"Sometimes people aren't hungry Mione…besides; I had a meeting with Professor Snape just before, so I wasn't in a very sociable mood."

Ron nodded but Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Why did you have a meeting with Professor Snape?"

"Dumbledore wants me to continue Occulmency with him. He was laying down some ground rules."

His friends looked uneasily at the Slytherin, whose face had taken on a comical expression of relief.

"Thank god. I knew you couldn't be taking remedial potions. Not even you are that bad."

Ron, to his horror, could feel a smile slipping across his face and tried his best to repress it, whilst Harry sent the blonde a withering glare.

"Thanks Malfoy. That really made me feel confident about my abilities."

The Slytherin shot him a sunny smile.

"Happy to help, Potter old chap."

Even Hermione giggled at that one. Draco checked his watch and suddenly got up.

"I'm going to go, Potter, I've got some Astronomy to do."

Harry nodded, pleased to hear that Draco was taking Astronomy and remembering the star gazing lesson they had indulged in in Olympia. Draco checked himself at the door.

"I'll meet you tomorrow…in the library, say…after dinner?"

Harry nodded and Draco returned the gesture, his eyes falling on Ron and Hermione before departing. Ron rubbed his eyes wearily.

"This whole Malfoy being nice and on our side thing is going to take a little bit of getting used to on my part."

Hermione patted his arm sympathetically.

"Come on you two", she said as she pulled them out of the Owlery, Harry waving a hurried goodbye to Hedwig, "I think there's just enough time for a game of Exploding Snap before we go to bed."

"Yes mum", Harry grinned and dodged a swat and they ambled towards the Gryffindor Tower.

xxxxxxxxxx

Later that night, when Harry was certain Ron was asleep (judging by the heavy snores coming from his bed) he tiptoed to his trunk to get some parchment and a quill before settling down to write what would undoubtedly be one of the most odd letters he would ever send.

_Dudley,_

_I need some information about this plague going round in the muggle world. I need it as fast as possible. Somehow, the information is being withheld from my people, and I suspect it has something to do with the man who murdered my parents. _

_Just cut out some articles or something and send them with Hedwig, she'll know what to do. And don't mention this to anyone Dudders, you'd better do it, or else I'll tell Aunt Petunia about what you and Piers were up to in the garden shed._

_Lots of relative love,_

_Harry_

Harry grinned as he finished the letter, remembering the day when he caught Dudley and his friend Piers Polkiss stashing bottles of Uncle Vernon's best vodka in the Dursley's garden shed. Since 'her darling Dudders' didn't drink, Harry doubted Aunt Petunia would respond well when an anonymous tip about underage alcohol proved to be true.

Blackmail. Not a very honourable thing, but nevertheless, Harry was sorry he couldn't be there when the letter arrived. Satisfied, he sealed the envelope, putting it on his bedside table to bring to Hedwig tomorrow before turning over and going to sleep.

xxxxxxxxxx

True to his ritual, Harry woke up early and before his run, went up to the Owlery and sent Hedwig off with the letter, promising her some treats when she came back. He looked out the window into the sky, long after she had disappeared, and prayed that one day he could enjoy a sunrise without the lingering threat in the air.

The morning was slightly chilly, signalling the beginning of winter but Harry soon shook off the cold as he ran. It was nice to be out here, at the crack of dawn, on his own. He jogged past Hagrid's cottage, noticing the blinds were still down and past the Womping Willow (which he took great care in avoiding) before going round to the lake again. Sitting down to catch his breath for a moment, he leaned forward to look at his reflection.

His hair was held back by a red hair band that pushed it out of his face and away from his forehead. The wreath of thorns was clearly visible, and the small leaves, like the hilt of his knife, were green like his eyes. It was as if the wreath was a sentient being, right underneath his skin. Harry shivered a little.

'Maybe I'll sprout roses soon', he thought wryly to himself, and laughed softly. His hand came up to touch the thorns, wondering why the three stars over his eyebrow never reappeared anymore. As he absently rubbed his head, he jerked his hand away as he felt a small stab of pain.

"Fucking hell…" he trailed off as a few drops of blood fell from his finger into the lake. This was just too uncanny. He was slightly offended, trying to glare at his forehead (which, sadly, didn't have the slightest effect.)

"You're in my head", he growled, "one would think you'd not hurt the person you're part of!"

Then he stared at the water, for where the drops had fallen he could no longer see his own reflection, but images rapidly flashing in and out of focus.

He saw Lucius Malfoy, seemingly escaping from Azkaban. He saw Voldemort standing next to a Dementor. He saw muggles with boils on their faces, eyes twisted in agony. He saw a rat, which he first assumed was Pettigrew, but then realised had all its claws. He saw himself, fighting…someone he couldn't make out. He saw Lord Solomon, but there was something wrong with his face. He saw a battlefield, with flies buzzing over the remains of soldiers, and knew it was a muggle war. Then the water was awash with blood, so much that his vision clouded, and after the blood came the fire, scorching the earth. Before he fell backwards he caught of glimpse of a person, himself perhaps, sitting on a rock jutting out over the sea. He was utterly alone and Harry felt a great sadness fill him, before wrenching his eyes away.

"Not often is one able to scry in such a large part of water, Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore stood at the bank of the lake, though Harry could say with certainty he hadn't been there but two seconds before. He nodded at the Headmaster politely, but remained silent, knowing Dumbledore would ask him, if he wanted to know something.

"Remember that not all what we see is truth. Our eyes can trick us, as can our mind, by making assumptions if we do not see the whole picture. That is why it is best not to act before we have most of the facts. Although we must not hesitate to strike if we think we are right in doing so."

Harry looked at the old wizard in understanding, taking the warning for what it was. The man smiled and took out a gold pocket watch.

"I think you may have time for a warm shower, Harry, before breakfast. If you hurry."

Harry took off in a swift run, resolving not to wonder anymore about how the Headmaster knew the things he did, or managed to show up at exactly the right time. Sometimes, things were just better left unexplained.

He entered the Tower out of breath, grinning to himself when he saw Ron still lying peacefully under the covers. He was tempted, for a moment, to wake him up, but the knowledge that undisturbed sleep would, maybe someday, be a rare commodity changed his mind.

As the hot water ran down his back, he thought about the images. Should he tell Draco he had seen his father breaking out of Azkaban? Should he tell his friends? He resolved to do neither, choosing instead to wait for what the day's newspapers would bring, if anything at all…or until Draco himself brought it up. This could, quite possibly, be never.

Shrugging on some black school trousers and buttoning up his white shirt, he rolled at the sleeves, and shook his hair. It had been a while since Anthony cut his hair, and the tips were touching his shoulders, some of the shorter strands tickling his neck in a way he knew would drive him crazy in lessons.

Glancing at his hair band, he transfigured it into a simple velvet ribbon and tied his hair back the way so that it resembled Lord Flintmaker's. Some pieces escaped, but it did the job for now, hopefully managing to keep it out of his way, especially for Potions.

Hermione was waiting for him downstairs, and smiled when he dodged her hand as it came up to inspect his hair.

"It looks good on you, that aristocratic style. I don't think Ron will be too impressed though. He'll probably think you've turned into a ponce."

Harry stuck his tongue out as they climbed out of the portrait and Hermione laughed.

"I see he's not joining us for breakfast?"

"Nah", Harry shook his head, "I thought I'd do him a favour and let him sleep. It'll be fun to see him rush if he's not up by the time we go to get our books."

They walked side by side into the Great Hall, which was very empty at this early hour, and therefore seemed at least three times its size. As he looked at his friend, Harry debated whether to tell her anything about that morning…or about his meeting with Lord Flintmaker. He knew he had resolved not to say anything, but he desperately wanted someone else's opinion, and Hermione's was probably the one he valued most.

She looked at him for a moment before putting down her piece of toast.

"Okay, out with it."

"What?" Harry tried to stall as he bit into his apple. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"I know there's something on your mind, Harry. You've got this look that screams 'I want to tell you something, but I'm not sure if I should'…and believe me, when you've got that look, you should definitely tell me."

Not for the first time Harry wondered if Hermione Granger and Albus Dumbledore were related, somehow. He shrugged and let his eyes wander over the sparse crowd.

"I saw you reading a book the other day, _Markings of the Occult_?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

"I was just wondering…did it mention anything…about…" here, he gestured at his forehead and Hermione finally shoved her plate away from her completely.

"No, sorry Harry. But it did have some interesting information all the same…" she broke off when she saw him roll his eyes.

"Mione, every book holds interesting information for you."

She smiled then her gaze turned concerned.

"Why? Is your scar bothering you? Or your…wreath?" It was the first real allusion she had made to what had happened back in Babylon. Harry shook his head.

"Not…bothering me, but it'd be nice to know where it came from."

Hermione snorted.

"You know more than me in this case, Harry", she said, before shaking her head. "And really! You've got a pair of hands and a reasonably good mind…you CAN look up things yourself, you know!"

"I know!" Harry defended, "but I had quite a lot of homework to finish yesterday. You're so much better at the research stuff than I am, anyway", he added, hoping to pacify her.

"Hmm." Hermione looked thoughtful. "Why don't you come to the library with me tonight, before you meet Draco and I can help you look for the stuff you want to find out?"

Harry nodded.

"Thanks. That'd be great."

"LEAVING ME TO SLEEP WHILST YOU TWO ARE HERE CANOODLING?" A loud voice interrupted their conversation, and Harry had the grace to look sheepish, whilst Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Canoodling, Ron?"

Ron shrugged as he sat down, pulling Hermione's plate towards him and adding more food to it.

"My mum likes to use it." He glanced at Harry before wrinkling his nose.

"Harry mate, you look like a ponce."

Hermione giggled whilst Harry touched his hair self-consciously.

"It's not working with me!" he complained as he watched Ron shovel his food down in morbid fascination. Ron threw his head back, laughing, and Hermione winced as bit of food landed near her.

"Working with you? It's hair, Harry…" Ron shook his head before turning to Hermione with an accusing look.

"You're jealous of mine and Harry's masculine friendship, so you sneak him down here early and turn him into a girl."

Hermione collapsed with laughter as Harry looked affronted.

"There's nothing wrong with caring about your appearance!" he interjected heatedly and Ron turned to him once more, staring at him before looking at the witch beside him.

"My apologies, Mione, it's not you, it's that git Malfoy." Turning back to Harry, his gaze grew steely. "I'm warning you, Harry my boy…silk shirts, scented hair wax…who knows what'll be next."

Harry pouted at Ron before breaking into laughter.

"Well," he said between gasps of air, "I'd ask you to cut it for me, but we all know how that would turn out. Besides," he tucked a strand behind his ear, "I kind of like it long."

Hermione took pity on her friend and gave Ron a grin.

"I'm surprised you managed to haul your lazy behind out of bed to join us, Ronald. Just goes to show that hope springs eternal."

Harry snorted and it was Ron's turn to look offended.

"Can't a man join his best friends for the most important meal of the day?"

At this Hermione turned to Harry and clasped her hands over her heart.

"What a tragedy, Harry my friend, no longer does Ron care for us, but merely sees us as a means to his food. How sad that it should come to this!"

Harry nodded whilst wiping tears from his eyes, thinking that there should be more mornings like these…this…this camaraderie…this was the stuff of dreams.

"Well," Ron said primly, "it's almost time for class, and I see you two haven't got your books yet, whereas I have." He pointed to his satchel that lay carelessly at his feet.

Hermione and Harry stared at each other before Harry rubbed his eyes.

"Mione," he said faintly, "I don't know whether to call that a good influence or a bad influence."

"Well," she answered, "it's a good influence in most cases…but bad when used against us!"

They sprinted out of the Great Hall, Ron's laughter following them all the way up to the tower.

xxxxxxxxxx

For once Harry was glad he had done his homework, and felt proud when he handed it in. It was all his own work, nothing copied from Hermione and Harry realised what simple joy Hermione found in doing a job well done. It…gave you an ego boost.

It also helped in the general understanding of the subject. Harry didn't go as far as to voluntarily put his hand up, but when Professor Flitwick assigned a pop quiz, Harry was pleased he had completed his Charms questions. The ninety-eight percent at the top of his page did him good and he gained insight to a side of Hermione that was obscure to him before.

Oddly enough, Hermione even seemed to gain pleasure from HIM having scored high on HIS test, and looked at him proudly. Harry grinned, and even Ron's sour look couldn't bring him off his high.

"It's not fair." Ron whined, "If you start getting into this whole 'homework yay!' thing I'll have no choice but to follow. It used to be us boys against Hermione but you've changed sides, mate."

Ron continued to lament his fate all the way to the Entrance Hall, where he moved to go to Divination whilst Harry and Hermione slouched towards Potions. Harry was feeling exceptionally nervous; knowing Snape's momentary lapse in hostility yesterday would most probably cause him loss of House Points.

He clutched his essay tightly, although careful not to crease it. Merlin knew what excuse Snape would find to dock points.

His heart gave a funny little jump when he saw Draco already in the classroom, but he nodded politely and slid in next to Hermione who shot Draco a smile. Snape stalked into the classroom, banging the door with less fervour than normal, and said in monotone,

"All essays on my desk."

As the first students in the class came forward to hand in their essays, Harry couldn't resist leaning over to Hermione and whispering whether she thought someone had polyjuiced themselves into Snape.

"Mr. Potter, there is no need for talking. Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry sighed, and Hermione shot him a look that said 'obviously not'. Snape regarded him suspiciously when he put his essay on the desk, but Harry did not meet his eyes. Why tempt fate?

"Today I am going to explain your sixth year project to you. I'm going to explain it this once only, so you would do well to shut up and listen, lest you do not wish to fail"

Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione straightened, but pulled some parchment towards him, quill poised.

"Each student", Snape intoned, standing in front of them, "will chose a potion from their copy of this year's potions book. This year's potions book ONLY. They will do research on the potion, writing at least four rolls of parchment on its origins, its uses, its make-up and any other relevant facts. You have been doing potions for five years now, I am confident you know what I expect in an essay like that."

Harry was scribbling this down furiously, hoping that Snape would give them a deadline that was preferably on the other side of Christmas.

"Secondly", Snape continued when he saw most of them had caught up, "you will present, together with your rolls of parchment, a brewed sample of your potion, together with a work log stating the process of making it. I WILL know if you cheat somehow, and I will fail those immediately."

Harry frowned slightly. It was a lot of work, but not impossible…it could almost be fun, in a way, and to make the potion without Snape breathing down his back…it seemed like he might actually pass this.

"You will have to book the lab in advance, of course, and by next week I want to know the potion you have chosen, so there won't be two people making the same potion. First come, first served. I suggest you pick quickly."

Harry's mind instantly focused on the Wolf's Bane potion; he knew it was in the book, and it seemed to him a good opportunity to figure out the how and why of it, should the need ever arise to help Remus out. However, he'd have a look through the book tonight; see what else he could find.

As he went through the rest of his classes and, by taking the sorcerer's advice, actively paid attention, taking notes and writing down homework, he grew to appreciate Hermione's homework planner. Realising it would be a good friend to him in the coming weeks, he resolved to dig it out from his chest and start pencilling stuff in.

Hermione gave him a wide smile when she saw his notes.

"I'm so glad you're starting to take a serious interest in your studies, Harry. I don't know what brought about this change, but maybe you can tell Ron to get moving as well…Merlin knows he doesn't listen to me."

She sighed and Harry grinned, doubting that anything anyone said could get Ronald Weasley to stop lazing around.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry came out of the library just before dinner. He was starting to realise what Hermione saw in the place, having made himself quite at home there in the past two hours. However, he was restless and, once again, didn't feel like eating.

Knowing he would probably get in trouble (and wasn't it annoying that he felt chastised by his friends?) he went up to his room anyway and grabbed his Firebolt. A bit of flying would most definitely ease his mind, and prepare him for the long hours up ahead.

There was nobody on the Quidditch Pitch when he arrived and he kicked off, enjoying the soft wind that carried him. It was quiet, and Harry flew a few laps before getting bored. Aimless flying was fun, but aimless flying in a place that was usually full of activity didn't really much interest. He sighed, and made to turn back before a change in the air alerted him to another presence.

"Malfoy?" he guessed, without turning around, and smiled when Draco did a dive, coming up under him before holding still.

"Fancy a one on one, Potter?" There was a suggestive leer in his eyes, even though he was holding the Snitch, and Harry blushed.

"Think you can take me, Malfoy?"

The blonde laughed before flying closer.

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" With that he released the Snitch and they both watched it hover before darting away.

"Rules?" Draco asked, his body tensing for flight. Harry gave an impish grin.

"No rules", he answered before winking and flying off, a cursing Draco zooming after him.

It was fun. It was exhilarating. It was an opportunity for Harry to be normal, just a seeker chasing the Snitch, not a care in the world. There were points where the two boys almost collided, but somehow they were so attuned to each other that any accidents were avoided.

It grew a little darker, and it became difficult to see, so Draco pulled out of mid-dive, swerving to avoid crashing into Harry.

"No point in playing in the dark", he panted, squinting into the trees. Harry nodded, sitting sideways on his broomstick as it hovered a few feet above the ground.

"This was nice, Draco…thanks for seeking me out."

They both smiled at his terminology. Draco pushed his hair out of his face.

"Even heroes need a day off. You didn't catch the Snitch though."

Harry shrugged.

"I know, that's what was nice about it. I didn't feel the pressing need TO catch it. It would've been nice if it happened, but it wasn't imperative. It was more the game, really. Besides, you didn't catch it either."

Draco smiled.

"Good game." They shook hands and Harry left Draco to call the Snitch back to him. It HAD been nice, he mused, but they'd seemed like acquaintances. Distant cousins who played a game of Quidditch together. Like they hadn't gone through the past few weeks at all.

Suddenly Harry was irrationally angry. 'What do you want?' he asked himself furiously. First you tell Draco you can't be anything but friends to each other, and when he does exactly what you ask him to, you're disappointed?

Harry shook his head. Draco never listened to him. Of all times, why now? 'Why Harry', his internal voice piped up, 'could it be you were LYING to Malfoy? That you DO want to be more than friends?'

Harry scowled as he flew up to the Gryffindor Tower, sneaking in through the window. Technically, it wasn't supposed to be possible, but Harry had discovered the charm around the window worked much like the password for the Tower.

Did he want to be more than friends with Draco? After everything that had happened? Of course he did. He was just afraid of approaching the subject…they'd gotten off to a bad start, after all.

Try six years of bad starts, he thought wryly, as he slipped out of his clothes taking a quick shower. When he came back into the room he pulled on a t-shirt and trousers before noticing Hedwig sitting patiently on the headboard of his bed. The Evening Hex was lying discarded on his bed, but in her beak she held a letter. Dudley's reply.

Things were about to get interesting.

xxxxxxxxxx


End file.
